I'll Show You Your Existance

1

The first thing registered during his slow descent into consciousness was the cold. It was bone deep, penetrating through his skin and muscle, seeping into his soul. It was the kind of cold that left you unable to shiver, the kind that stained your limbs black and rotted them off. It was the kind of cold that killed you. The next thing he registered was the heavy pain of water in his lungs, choking him. There was a fleeting feeling of hands on his chest, pushing the water up through his throat and into his mouth. He coughed, the black sea water stinging his mouth as it came up. He was promptly turned on his side, and he coughed and gagged for what seemed like eternity until his lungs felt clear and he could take big, gasping breaths. There is a voice in the background, ragged and hoarse, comforting him through it, though he can’t make out the words. He’s turned back onto his back, and two large hands clasp his face. It’s dark, but he can make out the face of a man staring at him. They stare at each for a moment, before the man speaks.

“We’ve got to go. Chiyoh is waiting for us.” The words vibrate around his skull, the name is meaningless and empty. He doesn’t move, blinking slowly up at the man leaning over him. “They’ll find us here, we need to leave. Trust me, Will. Come.” The man speaks again. Will. That must be him, the name pulls at strings of familiarity. It feels like him. The man doesn’t give up his own name though, and one doesn’t come to mind when Will looks at him. 

Next thing he knows, Will is limping through the forest, arm slung over the stranger's shoulder. He doesn’t know this man, he doesn’t know who they is, and he doesn’t know who they’re running from. But a sense of urgency fills him, and he knows he must go with this man. He’s trusting his instincts. They crash through the woods, both obviously injured and struggling. The walk seems to take forever, and with every step Will discovers another thing that hurts. His cheek throbs, making his whole skull pulse. There doesn’t seem to be a single part of him that doesn’t ache, and he’s dripping wet to top it all off. The man he’s clinging to is wet as well, and walking with a heavy limp. They both smell of salt.

After what seems like a lifetime, they emerge from the trees, the moonlight shining down on them as they approach a road. The walk had been silent, save for their heavy breaths and footfalls, but the man speaks now. “Chiyoh will find us, she knows to be looking.” Will doesn’t bother responding, his cheek hurts too much to move his mouth anyways. He finds some strange comfort in the words, even if he doesn’t know what they mean. His feet hurt, and his legs are weak, threatening to give out from underneath him. The man grips him tighter, recognizing his struggle. “I know, I know. But you can’t sit down, I won’t be able to get you back up. Hold onto me, she’ll be here soon.” Will grits his teeth and does as he’s told, holding tighter to the stranger. Finally, they see headlights. The stranger seems to stand taller, tensing as if to prepare for attack. He only relaxes once a van pulls over next to them and a young woman gets out. After approaching them she reaches out and embraces the man. He accepts her affection, returning it with the hand not holding onto Will. “You’re alive.” She says.

“Yes,” the man responds, “both of us.” And with that she pulls back, her dark eyes piercing through the night, going over Will’s face with mild interest and apprehension. She nods, walking back to the van and opening up the back. “Come, they won’t see you.” The van only has windows in front, meaning anything in the back is hidden from view. “Smart girl” the man says, a slight laugh in his voice. He leads Will into the van, and they both slide into the back. There's blankets, two pairs of clothes and a large first aid kit already occupying the van. The man shuts the back doors, and then grabs the kit. There is a screen between the front of the van and the back, so they couldn’t see the woman in the front, but Will feels the van start, pulling off the side of the road and beginning to drive. The man begins pulling things out of the first aid kit, gauze, needles, stitching thread, alcohol wipes. He moves closer to Will, gesturing to his face.

“I need to clean and stitch your cheek, you’re still bleeding, and I am concerned about infection and how deep the wound is.” His words seem to make the pain flare brighter, and tears gather in Will’s eyes. He nods, and the man looks mildly relieved. “This is going to be painful, but I’m afraid I don't have any anesthetic on hand.” Will just nods again, turning his head so his cheek is facing the man. The stranger begins stitching, talking while he works.

“It’s good not to speak, I can see bone. The knife cut through your gums, speaking may irritate it. Hopefully it will only be for a week, give or take, before you’ll feel well enough to speak. In the meantime, we’ll find other means for you to communicate.” Will squeezes his eyes shut as the man finishes, opening them when he feels the hands retreat. The stranger gathers new supplies from the kit, then he pulls off his shirt, revealing a bullet wound in his abdomen. The sight is like a punch in the gut for Will, though he can't tell why he cares so much. His concern must be visible through his expression, because the man is quick to reassure him. ‘I’ll be fine. The Dragon wasn’t looking to kill me, he missed all major organs deliberately.” He speaks with almost clinical detachment, but Will can hear the slight stutter in his words. He can see how his hands shake ever so slightly as he sews up his own wound. Will doesn’t know who this “Dragon”  is but he can’t help but feel grateful to him for not fatally injuring the man with the shot.

The man looks up at Will when he’s done with his front, his expression apprehensive.

“I can’t reach around to do the exit wound in my back, I’m going to need you to do it.” Will feels his breath stutter, and he hesitates before taking the supplies from the man. He speaks as he turns, exposing his back. “It doesn’t need to be anything elaborate, you just need to get the wound closed. You’ll do fine, I’m aware you know how to do simple stitching.”

Not that I remember Will thinks. He takes a shaky breath, and leans closer to the man to begin. He pauses before beginning, his heart racing. The man has a large scar on his back, the twisted intricate lines exposing itself as a brand. Will doesn’t know why the scar feels significant, but he feels almost hypnotized as he reaches out and traces it with his finger. The man shivers and his breathing speeds up. They stay like that for a minute, Will is fascinated with the knot of scar tissue on this stranger's back. Eventually the man breaks the silence. “Will, it is important you stitch the wound.” The spell is broken and Will is brought back to himself. He clears his throat and begins stitching. He does his best to make the stitches clean and straight, though he feels mildly disappointed when it comes out rudimentary at best. He pulls away when done, putting the supplies with the rest of the used stuff. The man grabs the extra clothes and hands some to Will. “We need to change, we’re more susceptible to hypothermia staying in these wet clothes.” Will nods and takes them, inspecting the plain long sleeve shirt, sweatpants and thick socks. They turn away from each other as they change, giving each other privacy. Once changed, they both end up leaning against the side of the van, sitting side by side. Will can feel the heat slowly returning to his body, his limbs becoming heavy with exhaustion. He holds back a yawn, face scrunching up in pain as it pulls on his cheek. “You can sleep,” the man says. “I will wake you when we need to move.” Will closes his eyes at that, and slowly lays his head on the other man's shoulder. He doesn’t know why, but he craves the proximity. It feels right. The man freezes, waiting with baited breath as Will finds himself falling asleep. Right before the darkness pulls him back under, he feels the man rest his head atop of Wills.